


bloodstream

by intothehotzone (shesgottheknife)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesgottheknife/pseuds/intothehotzone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2014. Croats aside, the struggle to simply survive is very real. Inspired by Stateless' song 'Bloodstream.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Wake up and look me in the eyes again_  
 _I need to feel your hand upon my face_  
 _Words can be like knives_  
 _They can cut you open_  
 _And then the silence surrounds you_  
 _And haunts you_

 

_I think I might've inhaled you_  
 _I can feel you behind my eyes_  
 _You've gotten into my bloodstream_  
 _I can feel you flowing in me_

_The spaces in between_  
 _Two minds and all the places they have been_  
 _The spaces in between_  
 _I try to put my finger on it_  
 _I try to put my finger on it_

***

Dean was awakened by the sun spilling across the room. The birds chirping outside were like shards of glass going straight into his brain.

_Another day, another hangover_.

The cabin was cool, but warming quickly with the sun's violent appearance at Camp Chitaqua. Dean rubbed his eyes, looking over at Cas.

The once-angel's eyes fluttered open slowly. If Dean had a hangover this bad, it was a given that Cas did, too.

Cas opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Dean shook his head once.

_Ow._

The two men locked eyes as Cas moved a hand to Dean's face with a smile before getting up. He smoothed his t-shirt that had wrinkled badly in his sleep and stretched.

Dean rolled onto his back, both hands on his aching head.

Cas took out two pills from the bottle and swallowed them dry, holding the bottle out towards Dean.

"Not today," Dean said without even looking. Every day Cas offered him the pills. Every now and then - and more often than Dean would admit to - he took them.

"You don't have to hate yourself so much, Dean. Things are different now. _We're_ different now..."

"We're different now because a' me." He didn't want to argue about this. Not today.

Cas sat back down on the bed, one leg folded under the other as he faced Dean, holding the pills out again. "You sure? Because it looks like it's gonna be one of _those_ days."

"The Hell's that supposed to mean?"

Cas shrugged. "Just seems like you could use a pick me up is all."

"I'm fine," Dean argued sitting up much more quickly than he should have. His head **throbbed** in protest.

Cas sat the pills down next to Dean's hand before he stood. He took the bottle of whiskey off the dresser and tossed it gently on the bed. "Your choice. But if you don't... remember what happened last time."

Cas left the cabin, probably to go lead some stupid yoga class or something. Dean picked up the bottle of whiskey and gulped some down, along with a couple pills.

Of course he remembered. How could he forget?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2014. Croats aside, the struggle to simply survive is very real. Inspired by Stateless' song 'Bloodstream.'

Dean's drinking had gotten out of control shortly after they got settled at Camp Chitaqua. After the initial stress wore off and the immediate threat was subdued, it left him time to think. 

Thinking for Dean was a slippery slope. 

Thinking meant all the things he did wrong.

Thinking meant the fact that he hadn’t been able to stop Sammy from saying _yes_ to that fuckin’ dick, Lucifer.

The next few days… weeks? Dean wasn’t sure, but whatever they were, they passed in a blur and he had little to no recollection of them. He drank until he passed out, woke up, and drank until he passed back out. 

Cas had taken on the duty of making sure he made it into his bed every time he passed out and spent his spare time just watching Dean. Of course, to cope with this, Cas was directed to a plethora of things to medicate himself with. 

And medicate he did. More and more to the point where he’d end up passed out right next to Dean on the bed. They never talked about it until one day when Dean ran out of alcohol.

His head was pounding and there was nothing to help. Castiel had offered him pills - the first time Dean had actually noticed Cas was taking pills - and he had swatted the open bottle out of the once-angel’s hand and scattered them everywhere. 

Castiel was already so high, it looked like a billion tiny cotton balls had exploded all over the room as the pills skittered across the wood floors of the cabin that was unofficially ‘theirs.’ He burst into laughter, only sending Dean into a fit of rage.

“Cas, what the Hell? _Pills_? Really? The fuck happened to the Cas I knew? Straight-laced dude, never woulda taken fuckin’ drugs, Cas? Are you even listening to me?” Dean was screaming.

Castiel was still laughing.

“Unbelievable. Un- _fucking_ -believable. You know Cas, I-- I don’t know what this--” he motioned to the former angel in front of him dressed like someone from a bad 70’s movie, “is, but I don’t fuckin’ like it. In fact, I might-- I might even **hate you**.” Dean’s words were intended to sting like venom as he spat them, to reach the bloodstream where the old Cas he used to know might be hiding.

Past Castiel would’ve almost doubled over from the emotional blow that those words would’ve once carried. From the sharpness of the blade they would’ve shoved into his very Grace.

Not this Cas. This Graceless Cas that stood in front of Dean laughed more, sighing loudly as he continued to chuckle a bit. “Dean… Dean, Dean, Dean. Don’t you get it? This is it, man. The end. This is the big shebang that we were working up to. Everything we did, all of it. Was for nothing. It was we could be destroyed. The whole averting the apocalypse, pulling you and Sam from Hell, the Mark of Cain… _nothing_.”

Cas shook his head as he walked past Dean and plopped himself down on the bed that he was convinced was a puffy white cloud. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean was pacing as Cas lay sprawled out, hands behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles.

“Dean… lighten up, okay. Take some. They help, they really do.”

Dean angrily picked every last one up, spinning the bottle in his hand. He sat down on the other side of the bed, rubbing his temples with a shaky thumb and forefinger. “Cas…”

“Yeah?”

“When did it get so bad?”

The angel-no-more shrugged, even though Dean wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t know. It just… **did**.”

Dean spun the bottle around one more time in his hand before taking two pills and lying down next to Cas. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, and suddenly, the lines seemed to move like a conveyer belt. 

Dean laughed a little.

Cas turned his head and smiled. “Told you it’d help, didn’t I?”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I didn’t mean it… what I said earlier…”

“I know…” he moved his hand to pat Dean’s which was lying flat on the bed. Three pats, and he didn’t move his hand after the last one. “I know.”


End file.
